Maya's Testimony
by Batasyl
Summary: Everything seems to be going well for Maya, at least until she sort of became famous and Josh appeared back in her life. Why can't a girl just catch a break? Figure I will write something lighter this time...
1. Chapter 1

I should have known that there's no such thing as a perfect week, day, hour…blah…blah…blah.

Okay, wait, already I see some questions from you guys and if there's one thing I've learned in these past years it's that details are important. So let me start at the beginning.

I was at my workstation. Work was going well these days. Everyone had been treating me a little bit kinder since the article came out. The one where my animated character, Marley, who is a bespectacled brunette who's also smart, –aleck 13–year–old, was called "a feminist icon for the tween generation" (does she remind you of someone?). This got me praise all the way up the ranks to the head of the adult networks.

Now in meetings, people were likely to say something to the tune of "Let's ask Maya if she thinks this accurately represents the audience." I kind of liked it, but it kind of made me feel like I had a lot to live up to—which minds you, scares the heck out of me.

Some of my co-workers were convinced that Miley was based on them. Veronica knew it was her because of the glasses and her "fashion sense" bullshit and more than once convinced me to spend far too much money in shoes. I hadn't even known about the trendy SoHo eyewear store until Veronica opened my eyes to the wonder of its glass cases and funky frames.

Samantha thought it was her because she was a brunette and has a younger brother. And of course, Lauryn, my creative assistant, was certain that Marley's detective skills were derivative of her discoveries of her now–ex–husband Mike's money troubles and infidelities.

In reality they were all wrong. Marley, my character, who was dubbed one of the 10 coolest chicks in entertainment, was everything I'd wished I was as a teen or tween or whatever you wanted to call it. Marley was a gamma girl, totally comfortable with her looks and her brains. Totally unlike who I was at 13 or even who I was 11 years later at 24.

Marley is a combination of me and my BFFL Riley Matthews. She has Riley's looks and brains, and my bad ass coolness. Oh, the glasses you ask? That's my shout out to my other BFF – Farkle Minkus (he debates that the brains and detective skills are his as well).

It seemed to me like everyone was making a big deal out of nothing. _Marley's Enlightenments_ wasn't even a show. It was just 60–second story that aired during the kids' block on weekend mornings. I doubt anyone noticed them. I think the magazine was trying to be hip by even mentioning Marley. I didn't think everyone was going to make such a big deal about it. I didn't expect there to be photocopies of the article (actually, it was just a page with a picture and a blurb) in everyone's mailbox. I didn't expect the general manager to mention it in his weekly memo. And I definitely didn't expect the ad in _Weekly Variety._

I was thinking about all this and how nice it would be if I had someone I could really talk to about it all, someone other than Riley, who I can be able to talk to about this stuff. If you guys don't get it –I meant a guy. A _boyfriend_. Then the phone rang and it was Riley.

"Hey," she said. "I was certain you'd have someone answering your phone for you. Kinda like a minion."

"C'mon. It was just one little article in a magazine that nobody reads."

"More people read it than you think."

"That's comforting. So what's up? Your thumb got a cramp or something?"

"Very funny. No, I just wanted to see how you were. You know, say hi."

"You wanted to know if I met the new boss."

"Geez. Can't get anything pass by you."

"Riley, you're so easy to read. You can't even lie good even if your life depends on it."

"Yeah, yeah. So we still on later?"

"Sure thing peaches."

"See you later pumpkin."

Doesn't it sound like we get along wonderfully? Like we're totally cool and that we don't get into arguments and such? Well, let me tell you, you have to hear all the evidence before you decide to indict.

In other words, don't assume. When Riley and I get into arguments the entire New York gets worried. No joke. Exhibit A: 9th Grade, Lucas Friar…not a story I want to get into right now.

…

I walked up from the studio to Riley's apartment. I walked up three flights after Riley buzzed me in. She was standing with the door open when I got up the stairs. She held out a glass of white wine, my favorite vinho verde.

"Hi," I said kissing her on the cheek. "Thanks."

"Hey." I stepped into her apartment. I smelled food.

"Have you been cooking?" I asked.

"Yeah, my mom sent down some sausages. I'm making some pasta. I hoped you'd stay for dinner."

"Okay," I agreed too quickly. Thank god Riley is a better cook than her mom. Actually she's an amazing cook. I wouldn't be able to eat home cooked meal if it wasn't for her.

I took a quick scan of the living room while Riley went to put on the pasta. The place seemed amazingly clean. The table, which was usually covered with books and papers, was set.

"Did you get a cleaning lady?"

"No, just straightened up a bit."

"Well, it looks nice." She brought in some carrots and hummus. I took one and dipped it as she poured me some more wine.

"So what's going on?"

"Nothing. Can't I make something nice for my best friend? How's work by the way? So what did old Hackett say about the press?" Hackett was the head of programming.

"He covered his ass really well. Caught me in the kitchen and congratulated me as if the whole thing had been his idea."

"That figures, the bad man." Same old Riley—she still can't swear. My boss is an ass.

I liked that Riley knew all my stories. It was just easy to feel comfortable around her. She finished up the wine in her glass and poured the last of the bottle into our two glasses.

"Shit, it's done," I said giggling. I guessed I had been sort of gulping it, partly because it went down so smooth and partly because I was a little edgy. Like something is up.

"That's okay. I got two more bottles. I'll go open one up."

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is where the trouble began.


	2. Chapter 2

"I knew it. I just knew it," I said when I answered the door for Riley.

"Look, Maya, calm down."

"I am calm!" The hell I am. Uncle Boing is here. Yes, the Uncle Boing—Joshua Matthews!

"Interesting." I knew that Riley would suspect the worst, but even then I was hesitant to trust circumstantial evidence.

"Well, I'm glad he's here and — Shit!" My other line was beeping. I could see it was Hackett. "Riley, it's the head of programming. I'll talk about this with you tomorrow."

"Try not to make any pit stops on the way home, huh?"

"Thanks." I clicked over to the other line. "Maya Hart."

"Hi, Maya." Maya? The a-hole always called me Heart – yeah with an "e" he finds that funny. "It's James Hackett. I was wondering if you could have a meeting with me tomorrow at 11."

"Sure," I said, a little petrified that his assistant, Angela, wasn't scheduling this.

"Great, see you then."

I really can't think of anyone who could find any acceptable reason to refuse meeting with the head of programming. But, it was weird that he called himself.

…

I came in earlier today. Now, like most animators, we started at around 10 and it was pretty casual, but lately I'd been coming in around 10:30. I think the article thing had gotten to my head a bit. It was like a get–out–of–jail–free card. I hadn't been the efficient little worker bee I usually was. I was ducking out early, coming in late. I knew I was going to get my wrist slapped eventually, but I hadn't expected James Hackett to do it himself.…

I thumbed through the mail while I waited for my sentence with Hackett. I got an invitation to a gala opening or something. Great, I'd have to find another date. I couldn't wait for that.

Next was my credit card bill. I owed about $8,000. Paying for the movers two months ago didn't do much to help that. I scanned the bill to see if there were any charges on there that I didn't purchase. Oh, god! I spend way too much. This had to stop. I had to just make a clean break. It was what I intended. I just hadn't expected it to be so hard—wait, am I talking about my spending habits or Joshua Matthews?

…

I knocked on James Hackett's door at one minute to 11. He motioned for me to come in. He was finishing up a call.

"I know, we're so pleased…. I'm certain it's going to be big…. Sponge Bob who? They'll say… I know I know, look at Britney…. This demo is more Arianna Grande…absolute licensing tie–ins. Uh–huh…yeah.… Well, she's here now.… I'll give you a call."

I couldn't fathom that anything he was talking about could have to do with me, but I sat up straighter when he looked up at me. I was ready with an excuse about a sick cat if the lateness came up.

"How are you, Maya?"

"Great, James, how are you?" Hackett had been in the business forever. It was weird to call him James, but that was one of the weird rules of the network. Everyone must call everyone by his or her first name. The idea being that we were all equals. I looked around at the size of James' office. We were _so_ not equal.

"Terrific," he said. I almost expected him to have a cigar, but that would be a real infraction of company rules. "Much better since Marley's been getting such great publicity. Did you hear the _Times_ is going to do something in Arts  & Leisure this weekend?" I hadn't. I wish I read more.

"I thought tweens was old news."

"Absolutely not. Have you seen the research findings? This stuff is testing off the charts. Even with boys. They think of Marley as a tech head. They like her. She's got all–around appeal." I didn't know if I should thank him or if I could interrupt the flow. "So the big guys upstairs said to me, why is it just a short story. Why not a show? I said, great idea. We'll have a pilot ready by next week."

"Pilot? Next week?" I had to interrupt him. "That's, like, six days away." Next week is the yearly conference where advertisers got together to decide how much money they would spend on a channel based on its programming. They needed to see polished samples. This was big time.

"Well, I spoke with Lauryn and she told me you had about four 60s ready to go."

"Yeah, I'm working on them, but that's only four minutes of non–narrative story. There's no way we can get a pilot." Hackett looked at me and I knew that no one contradicted him.

"Of course, we'll get you some help. The new department head is here. He's some kind of genius with engineering and animation. Congratulations, you're now the executive producer of Marley. Just keep doing what you're doing. After the board meeting, we'll go into full–blown production to have 10 episodes by fall. Now, go get started. Make us proud."

"Oh, okay." I felt as though a bus had hit me. "Thanks."

I left his office and went to mine. I should have been happy to be promoted, but instead I felt sick. I had six days to come up with a 22–minute pilot. Brand–new stories and brand–new animation. When I was done with that, I'd have five months to get 10 episodes ready. It didn't seem possible.

"Maya?"

"Josh?"

And that, ladies and gentleman of the jury, is when I began to panic.


	3. Chapter 3

"I tried to tell you last night," Riley said. She was quite serious. "But you freaked out and run."

"I didn't freak out, a lot," I said, honestly. "And I had to leave."

"I think you're in denial," she said. "Really, I think you're making excuses for the fact that you're not over him."

"I never said I was over him. I just needed to move on. Hello, I'm 26 and in case you forgot I'm still 3 years younger than him."

"Maya, 13 and 24 are different," she said.

I knew she was right, but I didn't say anything. What can I say anyways? Joshua Matthews had always been my achilles heel. He's a good looking guy with a heart of gold. Perfect guy if you don't count the three years age difference _._ _He was the_ _ultimate crush._ _Shouldn't have told him—heck, I shouldn't have told the world cause_ then things got worse. I realized he was never dating a child.

"I have to go Riles. I'll call you later."

I spent the better part of the day after Hackett gave me what should have been my dream job moving my stuff from my workstation to my office and trying to block out the fact that Josh is just right beside me. Well, his office at least. I so don't need the distraction right now.

Josh and I had to meet with the rest of the team. We also got a new animator, John. John was very eager to help. I suspected there was something going on between John and Veronica, but as soon as I saw the number of empty soda cans in their trash, I realized these guys may have been doing it, but they were hopped up on caffeine and hardworking. That was what it was going to take to get this pilot off the ground in six days. It gave me a glimmer of confidence.

That confidence was quickly shattered when I realized that everyone expected me to make this show happen. Being the executive producer meant I kind of had to tell them what to do. Animating and maybe writing some dialogue were things I could do, but managing other people was not. I'm not Riley. I don't really play well with others, especially without Riley the Smiley. Plus, if this whole thing failed, it meant I would fail. It meant that, god, who even knew what they would do to me.

I never wanted to have this kind of responsibility. On top of all these, part of me, a _huge_ part of me wants to show Josh that I have grown and I'm freaking awesome.

I'm a firm believer in getting things over with. I couldn't imagine how I was even going to be able to spare three hours a day (at least) for the next five days to worry about Josh. At the same time, it seemed like the next couple of months were going to be even harder. If the pilot did well, I'd still have an actual show to produce.

"Maya, c'mon," Josh said.

"Coming," I yelled.

The meeting was going well considering how un-organize we are, except for Joshua aka the new boss, of course he's organize. He's a Matthews for crying out loud—their middle name is _organize_. This was a testament to how easily the whole production was going to go. I was lucky, there was no denying it. Maybe not lucky in love, but lucky. I should go to Vegas. I was certain to have more disposable cash with my promotion. Maybe I could make enough at blackjack to pay off all my awful debt.

"So that is okay with you Maya?"

"Of course." I looked up. "Sorry, what was that again?"

"Joshua will stay with you at your apartment for the next five days to help you with the story lines."

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is when I got royally, judicially screwed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Why can't he stay with you?"

"Because I am leaving in two weeks remember? The person that's subletting my apartment had started bringing some of her stuffs in."

"I'm mad at you Riley Matthews."

"Yes, pumpkin, blame little old me. It's my fault that your brain child creation got famous and it's also my fault that the big ups in your network hired my uncle whom by the way is trying to help you get even more famous."

"Grrr…so not helping Matthews."

"Of course I am."

Just the first day and I am exhausted. I stayed at work until 10 or 11 at night just so I don't have to go home with Joshua. I had to stay after Veronica and John left. I was jealous that they each got to go home with each other, while I was working just as hard and about to go home with a guy who's messing up my somewhat sane life.

They were both really talented, definitely better animators than I was (are you kidding me, of course I'm better) but the main thing is they seemed to respect what I said about Marley. I noticed the character was starting to look different from the one I originally created.

If you ever watch early episodes of _The Simpsons,_ you'll notice a difference between then and now. Marley was evolving in another animator's hand. She was looking a lot better than she looked when I drew her by my self. The differences were subtle; I doubted the audience would notice, but I did. My baby was growing up.

"Maya, are you ready to call it a night?"

"Sure."

Don't get excited. We got home, I showed Josh the couch and bounced off some ideas for the story lines and literally fell asleep on our faces. What do you expect? Romance? I'm stressed and over work so that's so out of the question.

Hackett insisted we have a status meeting on Monday so I could update him on progress. That meant I had to go in on Saturday. I slept until a decadent 9 and then went to work, Josh was already there. I did say the guy is perfect right?

I found Lauryn typing away in her cube when I got in. Veronica and John were also at their workstations. I hadn't asked for or expected anyone to be in on Saturday. I was impressed with their dedication. At the same time, I felt guilty for being the last one to get there. It was beginning to look as if we were a team.

"Hey," I said, smiling. "Doesn't anyone have a life anymore?"

"Not 'til after the board meeting," said Veronica, downing the last of a can of soda and throwing it into the trash. "Three points. John, can you toss me another one."

I sat in my office for a while, trying to iron out the second segment of the pilot. Animated shows were sometimes broken down into two 11–minute segments. Veronica and John were working on a device to link the four minutes I had already almost completed. It was a stretch, but I think we'd found something that worked. I had to find another adventure for Marley to go on.

Around two I hit a block. I felt as though I'd blown my Marley load on all the other short stories. What was I going to do if the show got picked up? I poked my head out of my office.

"Hey guys," I said. "If I buy pizza for lunch, can we have a quick brainstorm?"

John, who hardly said much, swiveled toward me in his chair. He nodded and said, "Need more caffeine."

The brainstorm went really well. It was the first time I got a sense of where everyone was coming from. John had some totally wacky ideas for adventures for Marley. Veronica, like me, was into developing her character, making her a real girl. And Lauryn was remarkably attuned to curriculum, in other words, making sure the kids who watched the show actually learned something from it without knowing they were learning. As for Joshua…well he's the guy that put it all together. Crazy, wacky, and educational –he made them all come together.

We all heightened each other's ideas. With a belly full of soda and pizza, I went back to my office and jammed out two possible scripts. I was feeling good. It may have been all the caffeine, but I was literally buzzing. The scripts were solid and Hackett would love having a choice.

Joshua insisted in treating the entire team to a night out. Sort of a celebration and getting to know his team better thingy. At 9:30, we all decided to leave. I made them swear to the gods of caffeine and industry that they would not show their faces around here on Sunday.

In the cab to the bar I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and applied my favorite gloss. We decided to try the new "Vietnamese, Senegalese wheat–free fusion with a South American " place Veronica had suggested earlier. I had no idea what to expect.

The place was packed and rocking with Cuban music when we arrived. We made our way through the crowd to the tiny table that supposed to fit six people. Talk about cozy. Or cramp. You get to choose.

"Maya, are you okay? You look really tired," Lauryn said, looking into my face. I was, but I didn't want to admit it. I had my game face on.

"Nah, my eyes are bothering me from staring at the computer all day."

"You should be wearing your glasses," Veronica said, tapping the side of her hot–pink cat–eyed specs.

I have no idea what I ate. As usual, we let Veronica do the ordering, since she had done the research. She was usually pretty good about picking restaurants, but something about all these tastes didn't really mesh. No one wanted to admit it to her. We just kept drinking the Latin drinks.

"So, we have three more days to complete the pilot," Lauryn said.

"No work talk please." Veronica complained.

"So Maya, is it true that you and Joshua were childhood friends?" John asked.

"Maya is the childhood friend of my niece Riley, but yeah Maya and are friends." Joshua said as I nodded.

"Joshua is three years older than me." I said.

I only managed two mojitos before exhaustion set in and I had to go. Thankfully everyone else were also exhausted. Of course Joshua and I shared a cab, we live together after all.

In the cab, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat.

"Are you doing okay with everything?" Joshua asked.

"Yeah," I said not wanting to have to talk about it. We arrived at my place and I started for my bedroom..

"Maya, wait," Joshua said. "I want to ask you something."

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, was the start of a conversation I didn't want to have.


	5. Chapter 5

"Look, Josh ," I said. "I was hoping I could just, you know, get some sleep."

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about our situation."

"Fine, I'll make some tea," I said. I was hoping to buy myself some time in the kitchen.

I've known Josh almost as long as I've known Riley. In 9th grade Riley and I had a fall out and even though I was the one in the wrong, the other Matthews didn't shut me out. They kept out of it and actually helped me and Riley to patch things up. The summer after we graduated high school, I pursued Josh relentlessly, and even when Riley hadn't been thrilled with the idea, she opted to never really get involved. I tried to keep my friendship with her and my relationship or non-relationship with Joshua completely separate.

Of course, once I started realizing that Joshua will never return my feelings, it became more difficult for the two relationships not to become intertwined.

Now as I poured two cups of tea, I wondered what Joshua could possibly have to say.

He was sitting on the couch, leafing through the copy of the _On the Verge_ magazine that featured the thing on Emily. I handed him the cup and he smiled. "This is great exposure for you."

"I know, it's pretty cool." I could feel him looking at me, so I concentrated on blowing on my tea.

"Sorry if I didn't give you a heads up about all this."

"Right," I said.

"Do you think this is a good idea?"

"Um." I took a sip. It burned my tongue. "Probably not."

"Do you want me to move out?"

"Do you want to move out?"

"That's not the way to answer." Neither one of us said anything for a minute. Then he said, "No."

"No?" I said. I was surprised. I was the one who does the chasing. Wait, what's going on? Does he mean he likes living with me? "Shit!"

"What?" I couldn't tell him. I think he likes me. Joshua Matthews likes me. I could barely admit that to myself.

"What do you mean no?" I asked. Just to clarify.

"I mean, it's convenient that we live together right now. You know, we work well together."

"Convenient? For whom?" Suddenly, I was losing my composure. "Are you forgetting that I had a major crush on you? I actually told you that I love you, and I was miserable for months when you told me you don't feel the same way. Damn!"

"Maya, don't cry." And of course it was too late.

I cried for a while. Joshua was pretty good about staying with me. "Hey, I'm sorry. If you want me to I will leave tonight."

"No. I'm okay now."

"You sure?" he asked.

"You know, I just don't want to do this all again. I mean liking you. We had like, you know, so much fun together. Remember all the trips we used to go together? The tricks we played on Riley? Who's going to do that with me?" I continued to cry.

"Well," Joshua said, patting my head. "I'm still here and I'm hoping that we can continue to do things together."

I wiped my eyes and smiled at him. "As friends?"

"I don't know maybe," he said. "Maybe more."

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, was when I completely lost it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The meeting with Hackett on Monday did not go as well as I thought it would. It was supposed to be an hour meeting and it lasted from 10 until 12:00pm.

He liked the two new plots I had come up, but he wanted something more "dynamic" for the pilot.

"We need to get them hooked and keep them hooked. The ratings have to be big on this one. Big. It's got to sell the ad execs who are going to buy time on it. Give it a different approach, Maya. What do you say?"

What did I say? What did I say? What I should have said was that it was far too late in the game for him to be throwing this curveball. I should have mentioned that the deadline was now four days away and that gave us no time to work in a new character or change the back drop of the adventures and that we would virtually have to scrap what had already been done. I should have told him that just because he was the boss did not mean that he shouldn't make decisions in a timely fashion.

What I said: "Um, well, I think those are great ideas. I'll talk it over with my team."

To add to the downward spiral of my day, I got called in for an impromptu Producers' meeting. During the break, I tried to call in to my department to see if Samantha could get everybody together to talk about what Hackett had said, but my phone was dead. I forgot to charge the battery last night.

"Fuck," I said. I banged my phone against the table in the break room.

"Um, there's a phone down the hall," I heard a voice say. Of course, I knew I was overreacting. I was growing dependent on my cell phone. It was silly.

"Thanks," I said.

"It's impossible," Lauryn said. "There's no way."

We were having a meeting about what Hackett said. It wasn't going well at all. I knew I was asking for the impossible from my team, but it wasn't me asking, it was the big boss. It was my responsibility to make sure they produced and to buffer their complaints. It was a shitty position to be in, but it's what I signed on for when I got promoted. Although it didn't seem as though I ever had much of a choice.

"We don't like to doctor up our work," John said, getting all self–righteous about his art. I thought about saying what I usually heard people say in these situations, which was, "It's just TV, it's not brain surgery." I didn't.

"Okay, everyone, listen." Fuck! Was I in any position to be the leader? Things had been so much simpler when Marley was just a creative side project I had done when I wasn't working on titles for the real shows. All the same, this was my moment to rally the troops. I had to do it.

"This isn't my choice. Sometimes, we all have to do things we don't want to do. We have to corrupt our creativity for the corporate agenda." I looked over at John, who was caressing his goatee. "Marley is like, my baby. Honestly, she's all I have right now." I directed this to Veronica. She had a boyfriend. Maybe she could find a little pity for me.

"I know we're all working real hard on this. This is a great opportunity for all of us." This was to Samantha. I knew she had ambition. "If this show gets picked up, if it's a success at the upfront, we're sitting pretty. That means more staff, more say, and maybe, hopefully…"

"More money," John said.

"Well," I wasn't going to say that. "Yeah, and more respect."

"When do expect us to complete the changes?" Lauryn asked.

"End of tomorrow." I pleaded with them to hang in.

If I were them, I'm not sure I would have trusted in anything I said, either. I suspected there was going to be some sort of coup soon. I'd be forced to retire in disgrace. It was all too much to bear.

"Fine," Samantha said. "We'll do what we can. For the record, I think this is crap."

I spent every minute of the day working on a big script that would wow them at the upfront. I found myself drinking a lot of soda and coffee to keep myself awake. And if you want to know where uncle Boing is…well he bailed. Okay, fine he didn't. He was sent to another department to trouble shoot some _huge_ problem. I have a big problem too, but do you hear me complaining?

By 8:30 that night I was done. I need a break so I decided to just go home. I gave Josh the spare key to the apartment so he can go straight home if he wished. On the way home, I fished a picture out of my wallet. It was a picture of Riley and me with Farkle and Joshua at a party. All of us looked so happy and drunk. From our expressions you couldn't gauge any guilt or innocence. There was no way to tell what any of us were going to do with our respective relationships.

I shook my head. Why even bother having a relationship with someone?

It all made my head hurt.

By Tuesday afternoon we had a rough, very rough first segment of the pilot to show Hackett, with crude drawings. I brought all the guys to the meeting. I needed the support and I wanted them all to feel involved. Also, I think that if they saw Hackett kind of beating up on me, they would understand that I wasn't the one creating all of these changes that kept everyone chained to their desks until past midnight.

He seemed to like the new script for the second segment. He watched the segment we had and didn't say much of anything. A lot of times, the brass felt like they had to input continuously throughout a show and that made getting through it take forever.

When the segment was over, he requested we see it again. Samantha, who was driving the VCR nervously, rewound the tape. Hackett's giant office was full of tension.

After watching it the second time, he gave us his verdict. If only we could do approvals by voting. Hackett had too much power. The jury vote was the only fair process as far as I was concerned.

"I like the new script for the second segment. I still feel like the connections between the original four minutes are weak. The one with the stolen panda works. I'd leave that one in, but the other three minutes need to come out. If the show gets picked up, we can work them in later in the season. If not, we'll leave them as 60s. Otherwise, keep up the good work."

That was our cue to leave. We filed out of the office. It wasn't so bad — he could have scrapped the whole thing. We had to fill three 60–second holes. Problem was, our schedule was so tight that it didn't seem possible. We needed to be animating the second segment by now to be on schedule.

"Look, guys," I said before anyone could quit. "Just work on the schedule as we planned. I'll figure out the three minutes."

I went into my office to contemplate suicide. I knew I had to do this to keep the team going, but how was I going to do it? There was a knock at my door and Lauryn came in.

"Paychecks are in." She handed me mine and left. We had no time for small talk and we all knew it.

I opened up the check. My jaw dropped when I looked at it.

It was the first check that reflected my promotion and it was huge. I couldn't believe it. Yes, I had an inhuman amount of work to do, but I was rich. In over my head, but I could pay off a chunk of my credit card bill. Suddenly, I knew how to begin tackling the problems of the pilot.

And that, ladies and gentleman of the jury, is when I went for a makeover.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

They say if you can't change your life, change your hair. Fine, I'm being a drama queen. As Lila, Layla -whatever, the stylist, razor–cut the sides of my hair, I suspected this could be the start of something big. I smiled when she spun me around in the chair so I could see the back. I nodded when she told me I would have no trouble taking care of it at home. I knew it would never look this good again.

After my haircut, I headed over to SoHo. I tried my hardest not to come to this department store, but now I had a big fat paycheck to get me out of debt, which was foreign territory for me. I wanted to hop right back in.

I agreed to get a makeover from a woman with a strong accent. She worked for some company whose name I couldn't pronounce. I was swept up in it and before I knew it, she was doing under eye masks, testing face creams, and applying moisturizer. There were boxes and bottles everywhere. My face felt heavy. It was all very strange for me. I barely wore any makeup; for special occasions I wore lip gloss. I washed my face with stuff that came from the drugstore.

"Your skin is the most important thing, you know. You must take care of it. It's the first thing people see. It's like your hair," my skincare professional said. I had the feeling she was insulting both my hair and my skin.

It was at that moment I realized how bad her breath was. Breath may not be the first thing people see, but it certainly was important. I flinched backward.

"So what's in this stuff?"

"You have not been paying attention. I told you." I felt like she was reprimanding me. "I tell you again. East."

"East?"

"East. In yogurt. East."

"Oh, yeast," I said finally understanding, kind of wanting to correct her. She nodded and began applying makeup to my face. She put a lot on, even though she promised it would all look very natural. When it was all done, she held the mirror up to me. I looked like a clown.

"Very nice," I said. She asked me what I wanted to buy. I chose a lip gloss and the under eye masks. These late nights were doing me wrong.

"No face mask?" She asked.

"No."

"No toner?"

"No."

"No eye shadow? Eye shadow very pretty."

"No."

"No moisturizer from whale sperm."

"No, Just this."

She seemed really disappointed and her attitude didn't improve. I found this surprising because the two items came out to 85 dollars. I thought I heard her sigh when she gave me back my card.

If this was being upwardly mobile, I wasn't sure I was prepared.

If I went back to work, I'd have to make it to the bathroom before anyone could see the seven layers of foundation on my skin, but I wouldn't be able to explain the hair. I decided to go to the only place where I still thought I could feel comfortable. I couldn't help it.

"Maya? You look like the clown at a children's party." Joshua said when he opened the door.

"Thanks. I got a makeover."

"You're wearing a lot of eye shadow."

"Well, I didn't buy any. She said she was going to do it natural." I saw his expression. "So, apparently she lied."

He nodded and I went to wash it all off. I checked the bathroom for signs of masculine invasions. Nothing. In fact, the hair gel I had conveniently left in the cabinet was untouched.

"Much better," he said when I emerged fresh faced. I could swear he winked.

"Are you busy?" I asked.

"No. I was able to resolve the problem. It wasn't as bad as they made it. And you, how's Marley?"

"Awful. We are so behind schedule."

"That's too bad. Was that Hackett's doing?"

"Of course," I said. "He also had more comments on the pilot. He wants to lose the stuff I had already done."

"Are you kidding? The panda stuff is awesome." I smiled. He had a good eye.

"Did you bring over the pilot?" He asked. I always used to show him my stuff. I really trusted his opinion. Sometimes he was a big help.

"Yeah, you want to see it?"

"Sure." We sat on the couch to watch the pilot. "But imagine it without the three minutes you know about."

"Got it," he said. He put his arm around me. I half glared at him. "Sorry."

When the pilot was over he told me everything he thought was wrong with it. I interrupted him so that I could get a pen and take notes. It was cool to get a fresh perspective from someone who was kind of familiar with Marley. And best of all, he came up with a great way to keep the story connected using the panda that we were so fond of. I couldn't believe how perfect it all was.

"That's a great idea. I can't wait to tell the team."

"I like that you have a team now."

"I guess it's cool." I looked in my lap. He grabbed my hand, then let go, then grabbed it again.

"It's gonna be fine."

"What is?"

"Everything." I wanted to believe him. I really wanted to make things okay.

"We shouldn't do this," I said.

"What?" he asked. I nodded at our intertwined hands. "I'm not doing anything," he protested weakly.

"I know," I said. I leaned over and kissed him. "But I am."

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is when I became a repeat offender.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The editor–in–chief of _On the Verge_ magazine called me as I was trying to figure out how to incorporate Hackett's changes into the second segment of the pilot.

"Hi, Maya. This is Maria Mazetelli of _On the Verge_ magazine. We spoke about Marley a few months back. I'm a big fan."

"Oh, hi, thanks. You know, a lot of good things have come from the article."

"I know. I saw the ad in _Variety_ and rumor has it that you're developing the short stories into a series."

"How do you know that? We haven't even had the upfront yet."

"I know people who know people." Maria was very matter–of–fact. She had a confidence I envied. "The reason I'm calling is because we're doing an article on women who have their dream jobs and we wanted to interview you. Our readers love this stuff, and truth be told, so do I."

"Dream job, huh? "

"Yeah, I'm assuming from our last conversation that this is your dream job, right?"

"I guess so. I honestly haven't had time to think about it. It just sort of happened."

"That's how it goes," said Maria, sounding like an old sage, but a happy one. "So you would like to do the article."

"Absolutely, but I'm going to have to get back to you about when."

"Cool. We were thinking in a couple of weeks."

"Great, that'll be after the upfront. I'll know if I'm really getting my dream job or if it's all just a dream."

"I think it will feel a bit surreal no matter what. Take care and good luck."

"Bye."

…

Joshua's idea for the panda connection worked out perfectly. I practically stuck a caffeine IV in my arm and worked on it for two days straight. When I was done, all I could see was pandas. I was sick of it, but Veronica and John both seemed to be impressed. It was as if they finally believed I am an amazing animator.

Hackett liked it, too. Of course he had a ton more changes on the second segment, but we had sort of anticipated that in our schedule so we were only about a half a day behind. Time was ticking, but I felt like maybe, just maybe, we could get this thing done. If we did, it would mean that I had conceived of and produced a network TV show.

I still feel like things are spiraling a bit, but it isn't out of control. I just have to go with it. Who knows what kind of things could come from this article? Maybe everything, maybe nothing. And if the Big Guys don't go for Marley at the upfront, well then, I'll just have to deal. It has been a good experience, I think. I wonder if I will ever stop feeling like I'm winging this whole thing.

Okay, I see a hand. I was getting to it. Joshua Matthews. We had a very nice evening, and I think that this is the beginning of something special. Okay, I don't know, but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of what I think right now is that we're end game.

But there's always a chance he'll appeal. I just know I'm not giving up on him again. That is a promise I made to myself. Joshua Matthews is mine. Mine. Mine. Besides, where else can he go? He'll be staying at my place until the full show gets completed. Do you think uncle Boing can resist me for that long?

So that's it, for now. I have to talk to Veronica and John about the final cut of this. We still have to do the audio. I'm never getting to sleep tonight. I also think I'm developing a bit of a caffeine addiction.

I am certainly going to get a lot of use out of those under eye masks.

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is my testimony.

 _ **The End**_


End file.
